Shooting Pains
by RedZipBoots
Summary: Curry improves a boy's aim and Heyes rights a wrong.


"I can't believe you're still insistin' it was a good plan!" Kid Curry turned in his saddle and looked incredulously at his partner. He shook his head as he faced forward again and continued to lead the way through the rock-lined trail which followed the edge of the ravine.

"Look, Kid, just because the Hanford job didn't go _according_ to plan, that don't necessarily make it a _bad_ plan," explained Hannibal Heyes with a roll of his dark brown eyes.

"I don't think so, Heyes."

"There are any number of things which can contribute to a plan workin' out, or not."

"It was a _bad_ _plan_."

"Just 'cause you keep sayin' it, Kid, don't make it a fact."

"Pfffttt!"

"You just think it was a bad plan 'cause you happened to get shot, that's all," Heyes reasoned.

Kid flashed an icy glare his cousin's way. " _That's all_?!"

"Okay," Heyes conceded reluctantly, "but that wasn't anythin' to do with the plan. How was I to know Trapper was gonna get distracted by that woman and..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. 'If it hadn't been for him we'd have been clear of the bank before the Deputy could draw his gun.' Well we wasn't. Tell me again Heyes, who was it brought Trapper into the gang?"

Kid's sarcasm was not lost on his partner and Heyes sighed for the umpteenth time that morning. The Hanford job had always been a sore point between the two ex-outlaws.

It really had been a good plan. Heyes had spent weeks working out every single detail. He knew he could always rely on each member of the Devil's Hole Gang playing their part to the letter even Kyle, once you had explained it to him several times that is, except this time he had failed to take into account their newest member, Jack Trapper.

Trapper was a drifter that the gang had befriended in Farthing, Colorado while they were hurrahing the town after another successful job. He was a bright, likeable young man with no particular aim in life and had been keen to try his hand at outlawing. He had fitted in well with the other gang members and Heyes was confident he would be a useful addition. A new gang member would not normally take part in a job so soon but since Preacher had decided he wanted to try being a clergyman for real - again - they were a man short. How was Heyes to know that Trapper had an eye for the ladies? An eye which overrode everything else.

The day of the fated bank job had dawned sunny and warm and everyone was in good spirits when the gang rode out of Devil's Hole for Hanford. As usual, horses had been left at two points on escape routes so that in the event of them being chased by a posse they had fresh horses to change to and by the time midnight came they were all in their allotted positions in the town and clear on what they had to do. Kyle was in charge of keeping the horses ready in the alley at the side of the bank, Wheat and Lobo were a little way down the street outside the livery keeping a lookout for trouble and Hank and Trapper were posted nearest the bank, Hank near the side door and Trapper leaning on the hitching rail watching where the alley met the main street.

Heyes and the Kid had easily entered the bank through the window at the side and the safe itself had taken about ten minutes for Heyes to crack. It was just as the gang's leader had picked up the first bundle of banknotes and was about to put it into a gunny bag when they heard the warning knock on the side door followed by raised voices. Stuffing the empty bag and the bundle of notes into his pocket Heyes raced to the window and slid out, closely followed by Curry. Then the shooting started.

Kyle had the horses ready as Heyes, Kid and Hank raced to the end of the alley. As they mounted up they could hear Wheat and Lobo shooting into the air to try and distract the Deputy who had been doing his rounds and noticed the open window.

While his three companions high-tailed it out of town Kid Curry, his Colt in his hand, had turned for the briefest of moments, to look back down the alley for Trapper but he was nowhere to be seen. Assuming that the new recruit had decided to hide once the shooting started he reined his horse around to follow the others. It was then the Deputy's bullet found the top of his left leg. Kid kicked his horse into a gallop, staying low against its neck as another bullet whistled past his head and he didn't stop until he caught up with the rest of the gang at the first change of horses. Here Kid had taken off his belt and tightened it around his wounded leg to try to stem the bleeding before they took off again, changing horses once more several miles from the canyon that was Devil's Hole.

It wasn't until they had passed Deadline Point that Curry had given in to the pain and blood loss, slipping from his saddle and into unconsciousness. He awoke an hour or so later in the small backroom of the leader's cabin. From the other room came his partner's raised voice berating Wheat and Lobo for not watching Jack Trapper more closely and for not raising the alarm when the man left his post to talk to a saloon girl as she walked to her boarding house.

Lobo said Kid had been lucky, the bullet had gone straight through the fleshy part of his thigh, so he flushed it with whiskey and stitched him up. A wound fever had them all worried for a few days but with Heyes' and Lobo's constant care Kid managed to shake it off and after a few weeks rest he was soon back to normal.

Heyes looked solemnly at the back of Kid Curry's sheepskin jacket. "Now Kid, you know I would rather it had been me who got shot and not you."

The leader of the Devil's Hole Gang always felt responsible if any of his men got injured on a job, not that it happened very often, and he would make everyone in the gang's life a misery while he brooded over it for days afterwards. What made matters worse was that the bundle of banknotes that Heyes had stuffed into his pocket only amounted to a measly seventy three dollars.

"Well, it was a good thing Trapper never showed up again or I'd a been sorely tempted to put a bullet in _him_ ," stated Kid.

"You'd have had to get in line!" laughed Heyes, provoking a reluctant grin from his cousin.

Suddenly there was the sound of gunfire. The two men drew their revolvers and reined in their horses while they quickly tried to locate the shooter.

"Sounds like it came from the other side of the ravine," said Kid.

"Rifle?"

"Yep. Didn't sound like a pistol to me and it certainly wasn't a shotgun."

Unlike the terrain they were passing through, the other side of the ravine was covered in piṅon pine and as they scanned the rim a large deer darted through the trees and stopped abruptly at the edge. More shots followed before the deer ran back into the shelter of the forest.

"Must be a hunter," said Kid, "but not a very good one if that's the deer he's aimin' at."

They holstered their guns and moved on but had not gone far when there was another shot. This time the bullet bounced off a rock a little way behind Heyes' sorrel mare. She was a skittish creature and this had her throwing her head about while she jogged and side stepped all over the narrow track. Instinctively Heyes relaxed into the saddle while he spoke to her gently. Keeping his outside leg firmly on the mare's side to keep her away from the edge he encouraged her forward after Kid's gelding.

Kid leaned on his saddle horn and shook his head as he paused briefly to let his partner catch up. He kept suggesting that Heyes should change his horse but his partner insisted that she was no trouble even though at times she could shy at nothing and really slow them up.

Seeing that Heyes had regained control Kid was just about to move forward again when he felt a thud at the top of his leg and an intense burning pain. The sound of the shot echoed around the ravine.

" $*&! I'm hit!"

" _What?! Where?"_

"Leg. Let's get outta here!"

They urged their horses on as fast as the narrow rocky trail would allow until the sound of the rifle was left behind. As they started to descend from the rim the trail widened and Heyes was able to ride next to Kid and get a better look at his wounded leg. The bloodstain had not spread very far but Heyes assumed that was due to the pressure Kid had been applying as he grasped the top of his leg with his hand. He would be able to get a better idea of how bad his partner was hurt once they found somewhere safe to stop.

"How are you doin', Kid?" Heyes' concerned brown eyes scrutinized his cousin's face as he knew from experience how good Kid could be at concealing pain.

"I'll be alright for a little while longer. I wanna get some distance between us and that shooter."

Heyes quickly scanned the horizon and pointed over to their right. "Let's head for those rocky outcrops. They've gotta be, say, a couple of miles away. We can stop there. Will you be okay 'til then?" His cousin nodded and they rode on.

When they finally hit level ground Kid urged his horse into a lope and Heyes followed, happy to let his cousin set a pace he could cope with. As they neared the boulders the ex-outlaws looked for a suitable place which would give them shelter but also a view of the surrounding area in case anyone was following them. Eventually Kid pointed to an overhang which was partially hidden by three large boulders. Manoeuvring their horses carefully over the rough terrain they were pleased to see that behind the three boulders there was a flat area of ground which was partially sheltered by the overhang.

Heyes was quickly out of his saddle to help Kid dismount. His wounded leg buckled slightly as he hit the ground triggering a curse from his cousin but Heyes was able to steady him and help him sit beneath the overhang.

"Keep the pressure on that leg while I get the saddlebags," he ordered, watching the blood stain start to spread over Kid's jeans.

Heyes returned quickly with their saddlebags and canteens and noticed the beads of sweat running down the side of his cousin's face. He reached into his right boot and took out his knife.

"Let's take a look at this," he said, kneeling next to the wounded leg.

"Oh no! You're not cuttin' these pants, they're new," objected Kid.

"Well they won't be much good now you've got a bullet hole and a big blood stain on them."

Kid gave Heyes one of his icy stares. "I'm gonna take them off," he declared stubbornly. Heyes sighed as he stood and helped Kid to his feet again.

"What about your drawers?"

"I'm takin' them off too. It's not like I got anythin' you ain't. I gotta take them off anyway so you can bandage my leg." Kid rolled his eyes. "Geez, Heyes I thought you were supposed to be the one with the brains!"

While his partner readied himself Heyes went back to the horses, undid a girth and slid a horse blanket from under a saddle so Kid would have something to sit on. He was soon ripping up one of Kid's shirts that he had pulled from inside his bedroll. Kid stopped trying to peer at his wounded thigh.

"Hey! What are you doin'?"

"You're gonna need bandages," explained Heyes, pausing mid rip.

"I know that, but what's wrong with one of _your_ shirts?"

"I'm not the one with a bullet in his leg."

"That could be arranged," grumbled Kid, lowering himself down onto the blanket and leaning against the rock.

"Kid, you get real proddy when you're shot, do you know that?"

Kid glared at his cousin again and Heyes frowned to mask a smile. The frown remained on his face as he pulled a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag, pouring some of it over his hands and some over the bullet wound. Kid clenched his fists and gritted his teeth against the sharp sting which had added itself to the throbbing pain in his thigh.

Kid hissed in pain as Heyes' sensitive fingers prodded around the edge of the wound. "Well, the bullet's still in there."

"I could've told you that!"

Heyes grimaced. "Sorry, Kid,...but I think I can feel it. It hasn't gone in very deep."

"Don't think it was travelling fast enough to go deep; we were almost outta range."

"I may be able to push it out with my fingers. Don't want to go digging around with my knife if I don't have to," said Heyes as he peered at Kid's leg again.

"Just get on with it, will ya," griped his cousin.

"Here. Have some of this." Heyes held out the whiskey bottle. Kid started to shake his head then had second thoughts and took the bottle, drinking deeply.

"Ready?"

Kid nodded and closed his eyes.

Heyes was not squeamish but he hated doing anything that caused his cousin pain. He guessed it was because he had looked out for him since they were orphaned and still felt responsible for anything that happened to him. It was strange though, but he had no problem watching his cousin take a pounding in a fist fight. Heyes knew Kid could look after himself but he was always ready to step in if it looked like he might be getting seriously hurt.

He applied pressure with his index fingers and thumbs on either side of the bullet hole, accelerating the trickle of blood, and could feel the bullet give under his fingers. Moments later it squeezed back out of the hole.

"There it is!" he announced triumphantly, holding up the bloody slug and looking at it closely. "Looks like a .38." Blue eyes half opened, then closed again.

Heyes looked at the bullet wound closely while pushing around it to make it bleed a little more and hopefully bring any debris out at the same time. He then doused it with the whiskey again. Kid gasped, pushing his head back against the rock face. Heyes always marvelled at how much pain his partner could endure whilst hardly making a sound; the sheen on his face and the sweat stains on his shirt said more than his cousin ever would.

When Heyes had finished tightly bandaging Kid's leg he sat back on his heels to survey his handiwork.

"How does that feel?"

"Wonderful," came the sarcastic reply.

Heyes gave a wry smile and shook his head as he wiped his blood-covered hands on a piece of the torn shirt. When he next looked at his partner the blond-haired man was watching him.

"Thanks, Heyes."

Later that evening once Heyes had tended the horses, made camp and rustled up a meagre supper the two men sat in companionable silence staring at the campfire embers and drinking coffee.

Kid, now fully dressed and wrapped in a blanket, shifted uncomfortably on his bedroll and grunted as he flexed his injured leg.

"You need to keep that leg still or you'll start it bleeding again," Heyes reminded him.

"My butt's goin' numb sitting in the same position, I gotta move!"

Heyes chuckled then asked thoughtfully. "Hey Kid, you don't suppose someone could have actually been shooting at us do you?"

"Stop worryin'. Judging by the number of shots, whoever it was emptied best part of a magazine and only two came over our side of the ravine. It was a hunter. A bad one."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

As the new day dawned Hannibal Heyes squinted at his pocket watch in the pale light and rubbed his tired eyes. He had spent most of the night propped up against his saddle and it was only when Kid woke up and insisted he take his turn at watch that he had managed an hour or so of fitful sleep.

He quietly busied himself making a new fire and topped up the coffee pot with the remaining water from their canteens before putting it on the fire to heat. By the time the sun had cleared the hills behind them spilling its golden light across the plain below the coffee was good and hot, so he poured some into a tin cup and walked over to squat down next to his sleeping cousin.

"Jed...Kid," he said softly while touching him lightly on the shoulder. Experience had taught Heyes that prudence was the best approach when waking his cousin if he didn't want to suddenly be staring at the business end of a Colt .45. Kid Curry slowly opened his eyes.

"Here. Got you some coffee." He held out the cup. "I'll get some breakfast goin'."

Kid sat up and took the cup. He sipped the hot liquid, grimacing at the bitter taste of Heyes' coffee as he watched his partner prepare what remained of their bacon and biscuits.

Soon the salty smell of frying bacon filled the air and Kid could feel his stomach starting to rumble. Heyes looked over at his partner.

"Won't be able to have a breakfast like this tomorrow morning, we're running low on supplies," he said. "I'll go search out some water later. Our canteens are almost empty and you need to drink plenty."

"I'll be fine to ride today, Heyes," stated Kid.

Heyes shook his head. "No you won't. I figure we can stay here another day. That wound ain't stitched remember. We can ride on to Fairwood tomorrow."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Hannibal Heyes let his horse pick its own way through the rocky outcrop until he reached the point where they had left the trail yesterday. He stopped and looked around hoping to get a clue as to where he might find water before continuing along the trail in the direction they had been heading.

Kid had still been insisting that he was fit to ride as Heyes tacked up his sorrel mare and swung himself into the saddle. Although he didn't like leaving his wounded partner he knew it would be better for him to rest, so he happily turned a deaf ear to the Kid's argument.

Heyes' senses weren't always as acute as Curry's but, after about a mile or so, he pulled his horse to a halt sensing movement on the other side of a group of rocks. He slowly dismounted and drawing his Schofield, approached, cocking his gun as he rounded the first rock. He let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding as a young boy's brown eyes looked up from where he sat on the ground. A sorry looking horse stood nearby with only a saddle blanket and, propped up against a rock next to the boy, he noticed a Winchester rifle.

Heyes holstered his revolver. "You alright?" he asked with a friendly smile. The boy shrugged.

"Did you fall off your horse?" The boy shook his head.

Heyes walked over to the scrawny beast and looked it over. It appeared uninjured but he was certain it hadn't seen any decent feed in a while. Picking up its hooves he noted that the horse hadn't been shod recently either. Brown eyes followed his movements.

Heyes turned back to the boy. "My name's Joshua Smith. What's your name, son?"

"Luke. Luke Hanford."

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

"Huntin'."

"That your rifle?" Heyes nodded towards the Winchester. "Mind if I take a look?" Luke regarded him warily.

"No need to worry, I ain't gonna steal it."

Luke reached for the rifle and held it out towards Heyes who took it, thrusting the lever forward to eject a bullet from the magazine. He picked the bullet up off the ground and looked at it carefully. It was a .38. He pursed his lips as he pocketed the round.

"You any good with this?" he asked, thinking he already knew the answer.

"I don't hit much, if that's what you mean."

Heyes gave a half smile. "Oh, I bet you hit more than you think." Luke gave him a puzzled look.

"Anyway," sighed Heyes as he handed the rifle back to Luke, "I'm guessin' you've been out all night and are pretty hungry, right?" Luke nodded.

"I'll make a deal with you. If you show me where I can get some water I'll get you some breakfast. Got some biscuits," he added. Luke's eyes lit up hungrily.

The boy pointed. "There's a stream over yonder. It's only a trickle at this time of year but the water's still clear."

"C'mon then," said Heyes. "I got canteens to fill."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

"It's me Thaddeus, and we've got company!" Heyes called cheerfully as he and Luke wound their way up to the camp.

Kid Curry looked up from reading Heyes' book as his partner appeared from behind the rocks. He had heard the horses approaching and had been ready with his Colt drawn until he heard Heyes' call.

"Any luck with the water?" he asked. Heyes held up the full canteens as Luke joined him.

"This is Luke; found him down on the trail. Luke, this is my partner, Thaddeus Jones."

Kid smiled and nodded at Luke.

"Luke hasn't had breakfast so I said he could have some of our biscuits - if you haven't eaten them all, that is." Heyes reached into his saddle bag and pulled out the two remaining biscuits which were wrapped in a clean bandana. He handed them to Luke.

The boy thanked him before eagerly taking a mouthful.

"Luke has been out hunting - with this," said Heyes, raising his eyebrows at his partner as he held up the Winchester. "It's a .38." Kid looked at the rifle and then at his cousin, a slight frown creasing his brow. Heyes felt in his pocket and tossed Kid two bullets, the one he had removed from his leg and the one from Luke's rifle.

"You bag anythin' on this huntin' trip, Luke?" Kid asked, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the bullets.

Luke spoke through a mouthful of biscuit. "No. Nuthin'."

Kid pointed to the bullet hole in his jeans. "Except maybe...my leg?"

Luke abruptly stopped chewing, swallowed hard and looked nervously at the two men.

"Aww, don't go scaring the kid, Thaddeus. Not _too_ much harm done, after all."

"Ain't you that's shot up," grumbled Kid glaring over his shoulder at Heyes. "Who taught ya how to shoot, kid?"

Luke looked at the ground, the remainder of his biscuit momentarily forgotten. "Pa started to teach me but, he died last year." He looked over at Kid, eager to make amends. "I'm real sorry about your leg, Mister. My Ma is good at healin', I'm sure she could help ya."

Heyes looked pensive as he asked, "How far are we from your place?"

"Not far. About an hour's ride. I'll take ya there," Luke gushed. The ex-outlaws exchanged a mute conversation.

"I can ride for an hour, Joshua," affirmed Kid, "then I can rest up. His ma might have some fresh bandages. Leastways, it'll save me another shirt!"

"Oh, by the way," Heyes said casually as he held out his hand to help Kid get to his feet. "Luke's last name is Hanford. How's that for a coincidence?"

"Huh?" said Kid with a grunt as he put weight on his leg.

"Well, it occurred to me that both times we've been involved with a Hanford," chuckled Heyes, "you've been shot in the leg!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The three riders slowly worked their way down from the rock-laden hills towards the plain below and, just over an hour later, they arrived at a small homestead which was bordered by a small grove of trees on one side and a narrow river on the other. As the horses splashed through the shallow water the front door of the house opened and a young woman with hair the colour of summer honey tied back in a long braid came out and stood on the porch. She shaded her eyes in order to see the riders more clearly in the bright sunlight. The late summer sun made her golden hair shine almost like a halo around her head.

The boy trotted his horse ahead of the others and jumped down. His feet had barely touched the ground before she ran forward and enveloped him in her arms. He wriggled free, embarrassed.

"Where have you been, Luke? I was so worried when you didn't come home last night," she scolded lightly.

"I was alright, Ma. These men gave me breakfast."

Heyes handed his reins to Kid, dismounted and approached Luke and his mother.

"Mornin', Mrs Hanford," he said through an engaging smile as he politely removed his hat.

"Ma, this is Joshua Smith and that's his partner, Thaddeus Jones," said Luke. Kid moved his hand from where it rested on his saddle horn and touched the brim of his hat. "They need our help."

Emeline Hanford's large blue eyes regarded the two men with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Recently widowed she felt very vulnerable living as they were, miles from town and without a man to protect her and her son but, her mother had always told her that it was her Christian duty to help those in need, so she took a deep breath and returned Heyes' smile.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"

"My friend has a wounded leg, ma'am and we were wondering if we could rest up here while it heals?" explained Heyes.

Emeline hesitated. "What's wrong with his leg?"

"I shot him," Luke murmured, looking down at his boots and scraping a shape in the dirt with his foot.

"You did what, young man?!" exclaimed his mother.

Before Luke could reply Heyes spoke up. "Oh, it was an accident, ma'am. We were up on the edge of the ravine a few miles back and my friend was hit by a stray bullet. A .38, the same calibre as your son's rifle."

Emeline looked anxiously from Heyes to her son before regaining her composure. "I'm afraid we have no room in the house but the barn is dry; you are welcome to sleep there. But first, I insist you come inside and I'll take a look at that leg, Mister Jones. I make my own medicines and they work quite well, even if I do say so myself," she blushed slightly.

"Thank you ma'am, we really appreciate it," replied Heyes and he turned and walked back to help the Kid dismount.

Emeline Hanford showed them inside the simple house suggesting that Kid should make himself comfortable on Luke's bed near the fire in the kitchen-cum-living room while she prepared a salve to treat the wound for infection. She then set Luke the task of ripping up a sheet for bandages.

"I ain't sure about this, Heyes, her bein' a woman an' all," Kid murmured as he carefully lowered himself onto the bed. "The last woman who touched that part of my leg well, let's put it this way, she weren't no lady!" Heyes grinned and nodded in agreement.

"If we pull your pants and drawers down to your knees, Kid, we can lay that quilt or somethin' over your...well, you know...to maintain your dignity, so to speak," whispered Heyes helpfully.

Kid frowned. His leg hurt like hell so he knew he should have it treated and re-bandaged.

"Anyway," Heyes added, "I'll be here, I can act as a kinda chaperone, just in case she's overwhelmed by your... er... charm."

Curry fixed his grinning partner with one of his icy stares.

Later, while Heyes and Luke tended to the horses and found a suitable place to set up their bedrolls in the barn, Kid began to relax. His leg had been treated with the salve and clean bandages applied and, to his surprise, the throbbing pain had eased already. He rested it on a stool as he sat by the kitchen table watching Emeline preparing the midday meal. It wasn't long before Heyes and Luke joined him.

"Luke told us your husband passed, ma'am," said Heyes. "We're real sorry to hear that."

"Thank you Mister Smith, it was only last year but it seems like a lifetime ago now."

Emeline's eyes took on a far-away look as she placed a large basket of cornbread in the middle of the table and a steaming bowl of stew in front of each of them. Luke and Kid wasted no time in tucking into their meals but Heyes toyed with his for a moment.

"Do you mind if I ask how he died?" Heyes enquired, prompting a disapproving frown from Kid. He ignored the look and took a mouthful of the steaming stew.

"My husband would sometimes do a little prospecting. Last Fall he and his friend Lester Small went up into the hills to do some panning. They had found a good spot on their previous trip, so he told me. It didn't have a claim on it yet. They had been there a couple of weeks and it had been raining heavily most of the time. While they were digging there was a rock slide. Mark was buried. Lester dug out his body but it was too late. He brought him back here to us; he's buried out back."

"That's real sad, ma'am," said Kid. "You managing alright, just the two of you?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

"We have managed up until now, thank you. I grow all our vegetables and Luke hunts for our meat, but he's not always successful," she smiled ruefully and affectionately ruffled the boy's dark hair.

"Luke said his pa was teaching him to shoot," said Kid between mouthfuls. "Now I can't say I'm very good with a rifle but I could give him some help, maybe correct somethin' he's doin' wrong. If that'd be alright with you, ma'am."

"That's very kind of you, Mister Jones. I'm sure Luke would benefit from lessons with someone who is, no doubt, skilled with a Colt .45."

Heyes was quickly on his feet to thump his partner on the back as some of Kid's stew had taken a wrong turn en route to his stomach. When the ex-outlaw had stopped coughing and his eyes had stopped watering, he and Heyes exchanged a wary glance.

"Beg pardon, ma'am?" croaked Curry. "Skilled with a Colt?"

"Why yes. Surely you're an expert with that revolver. I can see it's well polished and it is tied low on your leg, after all."

"Aaww, that's just to keep my holster from flappin' around while I'm ridin'; Joshua and me we spend a lot of time in the saddle," Kid explained. Emeline smiled, but both men had a feeling she was not convinced by his explanation.

"Pardon me for saying so, ma'am but in my experience most ladies don't usually know one type of pistol from another. How is it you know a Colt when you see one?" asked Heyes, trying to keep his tone light.

"Oh, my father was the local sheriff, Mister Smith."

Heyes, who had just taken a mouthful of coffee, struggled not to have a choking fit of his own.

"He's retired now. One time when I visited his office, he had arrested an outlaw who had a revolver just like yours, Mister Jones. I guess I always remembered what it looked like." She turned to reach the coffee pot and the ex-outlaws exchanged another quick glance.

"We can start some target practice with your rifle tomorrow then," said Kid, steering the subject away from handguns. "Luke, you set up some cans or bottles on a fence or somethin', about three feet off the ground should do. Make sure it's well away from here, mind." Kid didn't want to risk anyone else taking a stray bullet. "But, first of all, we need to clean that rifle of yours. Did your pa show you how to break it down and clean it?"

"Yes, sir. Well... some," replied Luke with a shrug.

"You need to clean a rifle regularly, Luke. It'll keep the action smooth and accurate. If y' ain't got chores to do and if your ma don't mind, we can do that once the table's cleared." Emeline nodded her assent.

When they had finished eating Luke ran to fetch his Winchester.

Heyes strolled out to the barn to get Kid's gun oil from his saddlebags, his mood pensive. There was something Emeline was holding back, he was sure of it.

Returning to the cabin he placed the oil container and rag on the table together with one of the lock picks Kid used to undo the screws on his Colt. Heyes had left the tool roll containing his numerous picks and other implements in his coat pocket. Emeline had already noticed Kid's tied down Colt so he didn't want to give her any further clues as to their previous occupation.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Luke was up extra early the next day and had almost finished his chores by the time the two ex-outlaws had even opened their eyes. They leaned either side of the open barn door in their jeans and henleys watching him with amusement as he took a generous armful of firewood inside for the stove and filled a couple of buckets with water at the pump in the yard. He saw them and called a greeting.

"Someone's keen this morning," Heyes chuckled.

"Can you remember how excited we were when my pa gave us those shootin' lessons?" asked Kid.

"He was a good shot, your pa." Heyes' brown eyes momentarily took on a far-away look as he pictured the sharp-eyed, curly-headed Irishman. "Nowhere near as good as you, Kid."

"Better than me with a rifle though. I just hope I can remember all the things he told me! Can't risk showing Luke anythin' with my gun, not after what his ma said yesterday."

"D' you believe her explanation?" asked Heyes thoughtfully. "Can't say as _I_ do, not all of it anyway."

Curry shrugged. "Y' don't think she knows who we are do you?"

Heyes shook his head. "No. I think she may suspect something, but _what_ exactly, I don't know. We'll just have to keep an eye on her just in case she's inherited a lawman's nose for sniffin' out crooks! I figure as long as she don't go into town on her own or send Luke, we don't have too much to worry about."

By the time they had washed up at the pump, shaved, dressed and made their way into the kitchen, breakfast was almost ready.

"Mornin, ma'am."

Emeline turned from the stove. "Mornin' gentlemen. How's your leg feeling today, Mister Jones?"

"A lot easier, thank you, ma'am. I can even put some weight on it now. I don't know what was in that paste you put on it yesterday but it sure has worked a treat."

Emeline Hanford smiled. She was very proud of her home remedies, a skill which she had learned from her mother.

Both men took their seats at the table and helped themselves to eggs, bacon and freshly baked biscuits. Luke raced through his food before jumping up excitedly. "Can we go practice now, Mister Jones?"

Kid pointed to his half eaten breakfast with his fork. "Er...I ain't quite finished."

Emeline looked reproachfully at her son. "Let the poor man eat, Luke!"

"Luke, I've known Thaddeus a long time and nothing will tear him away from his food," remarked Heyes. "Except maybe...more food!"

Kid tilted his head and aimed a brittle smile at his cousin.

Half an hour later saw Kid Curry limping towards the trees behind the house carrying a wooden stool and a box of bullets. Luke jogged ahead of him carrying his rifle, eager to show him the row of cans and bottles he had set up for his shooting lesson.

"We'll start off close and see how you do," Kid said, lowering himself onto the stool and stretching out his wounded leg. "We can move further away as you improve." He opened the box of bullets and held them out to the boy who eagerly loaded the magazine.

"Okay, Luke, fire away."

Luke cocked the weapon, slid the lever forward, took aim at the first can, pulled the trigger and missed. He looked dejectedly at the ground.

"Are you holdin' your breath?" Kid asked.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Well make sure you ain't 'cause that'll make you wobble if you take too long on the shot. Just breath normally. Try again, only this time don't rush it," encouraged Curry. Luke repeated the process and missed again.

"Steady yourself, it's not a quick draw contest." Luke tried again, this time gouging a splinter from the fence rail.

"See, you got closer that time." Kid stood up and held his hand out for the rifle. "Here, let me try, the sights may be off a little." He took aim and pulled the trigger, also hitting the rail. "Pfftt, the sights _are_ off," he confirmed, shaking his head before sitting down and adjusting the notch backwards slightly. He then took one of Heyes' lock picks out of his pocket and used it to adjust the rear sight. Standing, he again took aim and fired. A can flew off the rail, and another, in quick succession. He handed the rifle back to Luke.

"You said you wasn't any good with a rifle!" exclaimed the boy.

"Well now, those cans ain't exactly far away, are they?" he said, noticing the glum look on the boy's face. "C'mon, give it another try. Take it slow, now."

Luke took his time getting his stance comfortable, aimed and fired. The next can on the rail shook slightly as the bullet whizzed past it. "Gettin' closer. Again." Kid got up and stood behind Luke, watching the boy closely as he aimed the rifle and missed again.

"You're twisting your shoulders a little as you pull the trigger," he said, thinking 'just like Heyes does if he's going for a quick draw with that old Schofield of his'.

Luke tried concentrating on keeping as still as he possibly could. There was a ping and the can somersaulted into the air. Luke turned to Kid and grinned.

Curry grinned back. "A few more like that and we'll move back ten feet or so."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Heyes leaned against the barn and held up his open pocket watch to catch the moonlight. He gave a sigh, one-thirty, was that all? He felt like he had been awake all night, but it was nothing unusual; sleep eluded him a great deal, always had. Sometimes he was not aware of what was keeping him awake but figured his brain must be working on something important even if he didn't know what it was.

His cousin sometimes complained about sharing a room with him, not that Heyes' restlessness resulted in Kid losing too much sleep. What always struck Heyes as peculiar was that Curry could sleep through almost anything except the faintest of sounds, such as a twig snapping or a match being struck, then he was awake instantly. Steady breathing from the other bedroll had shown him that he had not disturbed his cousin this time.

Heyes pulled on his boots and strolled over to the pump in the yard. He had just put the hanging ladle under the spout when, out of the corner of his eye, he detected a movement over by the trees. He wasted no time in returning to the barn for his gun belt and his dark grey coat to cover his once white henley before walking quickly across the yard.

Flattening himself against the first tree he came to he drew his Schofield before cautiously leaning out and peering into the darkness. Threads of moonlight filtered through the branches allowing him to see a movement about fifty feet in front of him. With the silent footsteps of an accomplished thief, he crept his way forward. Suddenly an owl screeched close by and, momentarily startled, he looked up. The next sound he heard worried him more - the cocking of a rifle.

Heyes' eyes opened wide in surprise as Emeline Hanford appeared from behind a tree holding the Winchester which was aimed right at him. He breathed out heavily and smiled.

"Drop the gun and get your hands up!" she ordered.

Heyes smile faded as he raised his hands. "Er, it's me. Joshua."

"I know. What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, ma'am. It's not safe for a lady out here at night. Anyone could be about or...or a wild animal." He moved his left hand slightly, pointing at the rifle. "Would you mind aiming that somewhere else?" Emeline didn't move so Heyes continued, "I saw someone out here and came to take a look, that's all. I won't hurt you."

Emeline waited a moment then lowered the rifle. Heyes tentatively lowered his hands and bent to pick up his gun. "Leave it!" she snapped, readying the rifle again.

Heyes stood up and, as he did so, slowly side-stepped to move closer to where she had come from without getting any closer to the rifle. She turned on the spot, following him with the rifle as he moved. Glancing at the ground he spied a hole dug in between the roots of one of the trees.

"You burying something?" There was no reply from behind the rifle. "You must be digging something up then."

Emeline made a lunge toward the hole but Heyes was faster. He blocked her way seizing the barrel of the rifle at the same time.

"Let me go!"

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"It's none of your business." Emeline snapped.

Heyes gripped her arm with his other hand. "I know something's wrong. I just wanna help, Mrs. Hanford." Gentle brown eyes searched her face. "Emeline," he added softly, loosening his grip.

Emeline knelt down by the hole. Reaching in she pulled out a small burlap bag. "I was digging this up. Here!" She held it up to Heyes. He knew what was in the bag without even looking. Gold dust. He and the Kid had worked for - and lost - a number of these bags in the past.

"I thought it would be safer buried out here," she explained as Heyes helped her to her feet. She walked to a fallen tree trunk and sat down. "You might as well take it. If you're going to steal it anyway I don't think I'd have much chance stopping you."

"I'm not gonna steal your gold, Emeline," said Heyes quietly as he sat down beside her. "Neither me nor Thaddeus would do that. I take it this is the last of your husband's cache?"

"This is all there is - his share from the last trip. His friend, Lester, left it with me when he brought Mark's body home. He said it was only right I should have it but, when it's gone I don't know what we are going to do."

Pursing his lips, Heyes tossed the small bag of gold in his palm trying to assess its weight. "Hmm, seems to me there's probably less than a pound of dust here. You said the site they found was good?" Emeline nodded. "And they had been working it, how long?"

"Just over two weeks the last time, why?"

Heyes frowned as he considered this. "Well unless they were doggin' it', they should have gotten a lot more than this, and I'm speaking from experience. Right now gold is fetching about twenty dollars an ounce so there's probably less than three hundred dollars worth here. Have you cashed any of this in?"

"No, but that's only half of what they panned. Lester kept his share."

Heyes passed the bag back to Emeline. "You trust this fella?"

Emeline looked puzzled. "Yes...I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just my suspicious nature, I guess," said Heyes with a half smile. "Tell you what, I'll go into town tomorrow. I'd like to meet this Lester Small for myself. Do you need to cash this gold in right now?"

Emeline hesitated not really knowing what Heyes was getting at. "Not right now, no. We have enough supplies to last for a little while. If Luke or Thaddeus can shoot something to go in the pot, that would help."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Thaddeus can shoot game in his sleep!" Heyes grimaced inwardly as he realized what he had just said.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Kid Curry leaned against the stall at the end of the barn and watched his partner saddle up his horse.

"I really should be comin' too, Heyes," he grumbled quietly. "If you're right and this Lester Small had something to do with Mark's death, then he could be dangerous."

"Kid, you don't like going anywhere before breakfast and anyway, your leg will heal a lot better if you stay off a horse. I'll be fine. I'm only going to talk to him, see what I can find out, then we can decide what to do - if anything."

"Yes, but..."

"You're staying here." Heyes was adamant. "I really don't think he's dangerous, he just got lucky...well, sorta."

Kid Curry rolled his eyes at his cousin's macabre sense of humour. "Okay, Heyes, but if you're not back by sundown I'm riding in to look for ya."

Heyes led his mare out into the yard, tightened the cinch and swung himself into the saddle. He grinned down at his partner. "You just concentrate on helping Luke to shoot straight. Oh, and Kid...you might want to see if you can bag a rabbit or two for supper. I kinda let it slip to Emeline that you were real good at shootin' game."

Curry opened his mouth to say something but Heyes had already turned his horse and was disappearing down the road. Kid stood watching the dust trail settle. He just hoped that his partner was right about Small. They both knew the effect gold could have on people, turning even the most mild mannered person dishonest and more than a little dangerous.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Fairwood turned out to be a very small town not far from the banks of the river with the usual wide main street bordered by wooden buildings. There was a general store, a land office, a feed and grain store and a post office which looked like it also had a telegraph. Everything was of wooden construction, bricks hadn't reached this little backwater yet. Heyes smiled to himself as he glanced somewhat wistfully at the bank which he was surprised to see had no steel bars at the windows. He thought back to his early days with the Devil's Hole Gang when they had been able to access this type of bank easily and clear out the safe in double quick time.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present he happily noted the absence of a sheriff's office or jail and reined his horse in outside the livery stable, right opposite the saloon. The livery owner appeared at the door and Heyes paid him for feed and water and to keep his horse out of the hot sun. He also purchased a bag of feed which he would take back for the three horses. Luke's horse was not in very good condition and he intended to feed it up while they were there.

The swing doors of the small saloon creaked loudly as he pushed through them alerting the barman to his presence. A few people sat at tables eating what looked like bowls of beef stew - probably last night's leftovers, thought Heyes.

"What'll it be?" asked the barman.

"Got any ham and eggs?"

"Only got stew."

"Just coffee then," said Heyes with a humourless smile. He paid the man and took the proffered mug of steaming liquid, sniffing it guardedly. At least the coffee was fresh. He sat down at a table near the far wall, pushed his hat to the back of his head and stretched out his legs while he waited for Lester Small.

Emeline had told him that Lester always had breakfast in the saloon. It was where he and Mark met to discuss their prospecting trips. She had given Heyes a fair description of the man so he felt sure he would have no trouble recognizing him.

Heyes had finished his coffee and was beginning to wonder if he had missed him when the arrival of a rangy, dark haired, scruffy individual was announced by the swing doors, a mangy-looking mongrel dog at his heels. The barman called a greeting as Lester Small sat down at a table and it wasn't long before a bowl of steaming stew was placed in front of him. The dog sat under the table, saliva starting to drip from its tongue.

Heyes got up and walked towards the bar, his cup in his hand. Timing his approach to perfection he knocked into Lester just as the man raised an over-full spoonful of the stew to his lips and so spreading most of it over the table.

"Oh, I'm real sorry," said Heyes. "I guess I wasn't lookin' where I was goin'." Lester gave him a disdainful look. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee, I was just goin' to have another myself."

"A whiskey'd be better," griped Lester.

Heyes ordered the drinks and carried them back to the table. "Mind if I join you?" He didn't wait for a reply and slipped into the seat opposite Lester prompting a growl from the dog. Heyes moved his seat back a little.

"Hey!" snapped Lester and the dog settled down and put its head on its paws. Lester grinned. "He'll only bite ya if 'n I tell 'im to."

"That's good to know."

Heyes sipped his coffee while Lester went back to shovelling stew into his mouth with little in the way of table manners. Belching loudly he dropped his spoon into the bowl with a clatter, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and fed the remaining piece of beef to his dog, who swallowed it whole. He then picked up the whiskey Heyes had bought him and tossed it back in one.

Lester regarded Heyes with curiosity. "You're new in town aincha?"

"That's right." Heyes leaned in and lowered his voice. "I'd heard there might be gold in the hills near here so I came take a look."

"Where'd ya hear that?"

"Oh, around," said Heyes vaguely, waving his hand in the air. He leaned in again. "Is it true?"

Lester Small shrugged and casually tapped his finger against his empty whiskey glass. Heyes took the hint and ordered another whiskey.

"Thought I'd go on down the street to the land office, see if they can point me in the right direction," he confided.

The newly arrived whiskey disappeared like the first, in one gulp. "Won't do ya no good askin' in there, fella. They don't know nuthin' 'bout gold."

"They don't?" Heyes sounded disappointed. "Who will know?" Lester once again shrugged. Brown eyes narrowed as the ex-outlaw leaned on the table. "I bet _you_ know a lot about the hills around these parts. Could you help me?"

Lester stroked the rim of the glass absently with his finger and Heyes smiled quietly to himself as he went to the bar and brought back a full bottle and another glass. He knew exactly how he would get his information.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Sitting among the tree roots with his back against the trunk Kid Curry smiled as he felt the dappled sunlight on his face and listened to the gentle woodland sounds. His blue eyes closed contentedly. Jake stood motionless beside him, his rifle tucked under his arm. They had both been there for a while, watching a small clearing in the woods for the movement of a rabbit or a deer.

Jake suddenly took in a sharp breath as a large white tailed jackrabbit darted into view. Curry half opened his eyes.

"Nice and slow," he whispered.

Jake carefully raised the rifle and gently squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, a puff of dirt flew up near the rabbit and the animal disappeared through the trees.

"Aaww, missed again," groaned the boy.

"That wasn't bad, Jake," consoled Kid. He held out a hand and Jake helped him to his feet. "Jackrabbits ain't easy to hit, y' know, but see where that bullet hit the ground, you were real close."

He had just put some weight on his injured leg when there was a rustle behind them and two rabbits, both a little smaller than the one Jake had missed, scurried out of the trees. Without thinking Curry turned, drew his Colt and fired two quick shots, killing both animals instantly. The ex-outlaw grimaced, mainly because he hadn't intended to use his revolver with Jake around, let alone draw it that fast, and also because he had twisted his leg making it throb again.

Jake looked at him with his mouth open. "Ma was right...you are good!"

"Lucky," Kid replied dismissively. He remembered just in time to holster the Colt without the customary twirl.

"Uh, uh," said Jake, shaking his head, his eyes still wide. "That sure wasn't luck, Thaddeus. Nobody's _that_ lucky!"

"Just go get the rabbits," Kid said tersely as he leaned back against the tree. Jake ran over and picked up the rabbits, tied them together with a strip of latigo and slung them over his shoulder.

It wasn't far back to the homestead but by the time they neared the house Kid was starting to limp badly. Jake ran ahead and called to his mother and they both helped him inside and onto Luke's bed.

"I'd better take another look at that leg, Mister Jones." Kid looked at Emeline trying not to let his reservations show but before he could protest she had Jake pouring hot water into a bowl from a large pot on the stove while she busied herself looking in a drawer in the kitchen dresser for fresh bandages and the pot of salve she had used last time.

"Jake, help Mister Jones with his clothes, please," she instructed, turning her back to the bed.

Kid sighed as he removed his gun belt. "Now I know we ain't been formally introduced or nothin' ma'am but.." he dropped his jeans "...well, you've seen more of me than most people have, so I think you can call me Thaddeus, don't you?"

"He's ready, Ma," said Jake stepping away from the bed as Kid covered himself with the quilt. Emeline stifled a smile as she turned and was surprised to see the blush in her cheeks reflected in Curry's.

She tutted as she looked at the fresh blood stain on his bandage. "What on earth did you do to make it bleed again...er...Thaddeus? I thought you were taking it easy?" Kid grimaced as she started to remove the bandage by dabbing gently with a ball of cotton soaked in the hot water.

"We were shootin' rabbits, Ma," Jake enthused. "I missed but Thaddeus got _two_. He's a real good shot, just like you said."

Kid rolled his eyes and fixed Jake with a stare. "Well, like _I_ said, Jake. _I was lucky_. OW!"

"Sorry," Emeline pulled the last of the bandage away and smiled at Kid's disgruntled expression. She inspected the wound which was again oozing blood. "It doesn't appear to be infected but I just need to put some more of this on it." She held up the pot of salve. "It _will_ sting," she added with a wry smile.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Hannibal Heyes and his new friend, Lester Small, staggered out of the saloon just before midday. It was actually Lester who was doing most of the staggering, Heyes was just concentrating on keeping him upright. Small had drunk almost all the bottle of whiskey and so didn't notice that Heyes had only drunk a couple of glasses.

"Come on, let's get you home," said Heyes as they stood in the middle of the street. "Which way, Lester?"

The inebriated man waved his arm. "Jus' follow the dog." Heyes hadn't noticed that the mangy dog had trotted off up the street and was apparently waiting for them to catch up.

Despite Lester Small's scruffy appearance he lived in a neat cottage on the outskirts of town. The dog stood and barked at the front door.

Heyes propped Lester against the wall, holding him there with one hand while he tried the door. It was locked. Not too many people would bother to lock their door in a little backwater like this he thought, happy that this might be a sign that Small had something inside worth stealing.

"You gotta key?" he asked.

"Oooo weee," chirped Lester. "I's as full as a tick!"

"Yes you are!" chuckled Heyes, hoping that he hadn't got the man too drunk to be able to get any useful information from him. "Now, about that key?"

Lester poked absently at his own jacket. "Pocket."

Heyes searched the man's pockets and pulled out a key. On opening the door the dog ran inside and into the back room and Heyes helped Lester over to a chair at a table next to the unlit fire. The drunk man immediately put his head down on the table to go to sleep.

"Oh, no you don't," said Heyes as he dropped the key on the table and rushed over to the pump to fill a cup with water. "Here drink this."

"Tha's water!"

"I know, but drink some anyway." He held the cup against Lester's lips and the man took a couple of gulps, screwing up his face as he swallowed.

"You got a real nice place here, friend," remarked Heyes as he sat down, put his hat on the table and scanned the room for possible hiding places for the gold.

"Tha's 'cos I got me a nice li'l claim. Lossa gold," slurred Lester, tapping the side of his nose with his index finger.

"You working it on your own?"

Lester shook his head. "Naaw. Got me a par'ner." He looked puzzled for a minute. "No, no. Did have. Did have a par'ner," he corrected, nodding his head.

"Did have? You two have some sort of falling out?"

"Could say that! 'Cept it was jus' him what did the fallin'." This last remark prompted a gale of laughter from Lester.

Heyes recalled Emeline saying something about a landslide and his eyes sparkled at the thought of proving his theory that her husband's death was no accident. "Oh? What happened?"

"Fell," said Lester simply.

"Yes, I got that part," said Heyes with a sigh. "How did he fall? Where?"

"Fell offa the cliff." Heyes rolled his eyes and was just about to ask another question when Lester sniggered. "With a li'l bitta help."

Heyes could feel his temper rising but kept his voice level as he asked, "What happened to his gold?"

"Had t' give a li'l bit t' the widder. Jus' a li'l bit." Lester nodded sagely. "Only fittin'."

"Uh, huh. And the rest?"

"Got it hid." Lester grinned and once again put his head down on the table; this time Heyes let him stay there. It wasn't long before the man started to snore.

Grinning, Heyes stood and gave the room a cursory search. Apart from under the floorboards there didn't appear to be any obvious hiding places so he walked over to the room the dog had disappeared into. As he pushed the door open wide he noticed the dog lying on a rag rug next to a small wrought iron bed. At the sight of Heyes the dog growled and as the ex-outlaw took a step toward him the growl turned into a full blown snarl. Heyes stood still and tried to look around while avoiding any eye contact with the dog.

He was just about to back out of the room when something on the floor just behind the rug caught his attention. An old dresser stood alongside the bed and next to one of its feet was a mark as if some of the varnish had been scraped off the floorboards. Heyes attempted to move forward but as he did so the dog stood up, lowered its head and snarled again. For a split second Heyes' hand hovered over his revolver but he thought better of it and slowly retreated backwards into the kitchen. The dog settled down again, resting its head on its paws.

"Be seein' ya, _friend_ ," he said to the still snoring man as he collected his hat from the table. Heyes frowned as he closed the front door behind him. He was certain he knew where the gold dust was stashed but the dog was a problem. He would either have to wait until the cottage was empty but that meant watching it round the clock, or find a way of getting rid of the dog.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

It was late afternoon when Heyes rode back into the Hanford's yard. He took his horse straight into the barn, undid the bag of feed he had strapped to the back of his saddle and heaved it onto his shoulders. As he turned, Kid Curry appeared in the doorway.

"Told you I'd be back before you knew it," Heyes grunted, dropping the bag against the far wall.

Kid limped into the barn. "So, did you see Small?"

"Yep."

"And?"

Heyes lowered his voice. "I was right, Kid. He did murder Mark, _and_ he has his gold."

"So what we gonna do about it?"

" _We're_ not gonna do anything. I am."

"You're not gonna go to the Sheriff?!"

Heyes gave a throaty chuckle. "That's real funny, Kid. No...but I do have a plan, which I'll tell you about later. It'll mean telling Emeline a little about what we used to do for a livin', though."

Kid shook his head. "Sounds risky to me, Heyes. Her pa having been a sheriff an' all."

Heyes began to unsaddle his horse. He glanced over his shoulder at his partner.

"It's not risky at all, Kid, seeing as there ain't a local sheriff. Never has been. You'll be pleased to hear that there ain't a sheriff within, probably, a hundred miles of here. There's a marshal who comes around once a month but he's not due for another three weeks and by that time we'll be long gone."

Kid frowned. "But why did Emeline say...?"

"Maybe she was just trying to warn us off, thinkin' we were a pair of no-goods or somethin'. You having a bullet wound probably made her suspicious."

Kid gave Heyes one of his looks. "Doesn't explain how she recognized my Colt."

"Hmm, I've been thinking about that too. Maybe you can set Luke up with some target practice tomorrow and we can have a talk with Emeline. Here, thought you might need these," he added as he pulled two boxes of .38 rifle bullets from his saddlebags.

"I'll just finish here, then I'll wash up and be in," said Heyes as he checked his horse's hooves. "There's not much in town except a saloon selling leftovers, so I'm starved. What's for supper?"

Kid limped back towards the door, muttering dourly. "Rabbit stew."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The following morning, after breakfast, Heyes, Kid and Emeline sat around the kitchen table, having first despatched Luke outside with his rifle and a new box of bullets. Soon the sound of firing met their ears with the occasional ping as Luke managed to hit his target.

Heyes, somewhat nervously, took a gulp from his coffee cup. He knew this was not going to be easy to say and he was not sure what Emeline's reaction was going to be, but if he was going to get the gold that was hers by rights he would just have to say it. He also needed her co-operation for his plan to work.

"Emelline, I have something to tell you," he glanced at Kid who nodded his encouragement. "I met with Lester Small yesterday. We had a drink, in fact, Lester had a lot to drink and it loosened his tongue some. From what he said..." Heyes reached out and took Emeline's hand in his. "...your husband wasn't killed by a landslide, he was pushed off a cliff... by Lester."

Emeline gasped and put her free hand to her mouth. "Are you sure?"

"I heard it from Lester's own mouth," answered Heyes, his brown eyes full of sadness.

"His injuries could easily have looked the same," said Kid softly.

"The trouble is," Heyes continued, "there were no witnesses. If you challenged him he would just deny it."

Much to their surprise, instead of the tears they had expected, Emeline's eyes hardened as she looked from one to the other. "Maybe you two could beat a confession out of him?"

Curry's eyes widened. "Beat it out of him? Er, no ma'am. Joshua and me, we don't do that sorta thing."

"I suppose there is nothing we can do then." Emeline sounded disappointed.

Heyes cleared his throat. "Well, there is one thing we can do. I know it's not respectful to talk about gold at the same time as your husband's murder but, I don't think you got his full share of the gold from the last trip. From what Lester told me, they panned quite a lot and if what you showed me the other night was supposed to be half of it well, I think he has cheated you by a good few thousand."

Emeline looked intently at Heyes who glanced a little apprehensively at his partner before continuing. "Now, I think I can get you your rightful share of that gold so you and Luke can have a fresh start but, we need to know we can trust you."

"I give you my word on that, Joshua," she replied with a tight nod.

"Alright. I'm pretty sure I know where Small keeps his gold dust. I don't know exactly how much he has hidden but I'd like to try and get what I think is owed to you."

"And how would you do that, exactly?"

Heyes took a deep breath before saying simply. "By stealin' it."

Emeline looked carefully at both men again before speaking. "Is that how you make your living, gentlemen?"

"We used to," admitted Heyes, "but we've been goin' straight for over a year now."

"I had a feeling about you two the minute you rode in. That's why I thought you were going to take my gold dust the other night, Joshua."

She turned to Kid. "Your bullet wound - that's from a posse, isn't it?"

Kid shook his head. "No, ma'am. That really was your son's doing."

"This talent for sniffin' out an outlaw," said Heyes, "you got that from your father, didn't you?"

"I suppose I must have. He was a sheriff after all."

Heyes looked steadily at Emeline and shook his head. "No, he wasn't a sheriff. There has never been a sheriff in Fairwood - y' see, I asked around while I was in town - but, there did used to be an outlaw gang in these parts led by Farley Wilkes." He caught Kid's questioning look and added, "you probably know him as 'Sunny' Wilkes."

At the mention of the name Kid let out a low whistle.

"Sure, I've heard of him, but not in a while. He had quite a reputation with a gun too but I never quite understood why he was called 'Sunny'. Not exactly a gunfighter's name," said Kid, with a little distain.

"He was called 'Sunny' on account of his gold coloured hair," explained Heyes with a slight nod towards Emeline who was looking embarrassed now that her lie was uncovered.

Kid Curry leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "Well, it all makes sense now. That's how you know what a Colt looks like. Your pa probably had one just like it. Did he teach you how to shoot?"

Emeline shook her head. "Not a pistol. Mama wouldn't let him. Said there were too many folk around with guns already. He used to take me out hunting when he was home for a spell, but only when Mama was busy with her herbs; so I can use a rifle."

"Is he really retired?" asked Heyes.

Emeline shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "No. Well, yes. Oh, he's in prison, doing twenty years for robbing stagecoaches and trains!" she blurted out. The corners of Heyes' mouth twitched slightly.

"Well, this puts us all on a much more even footing, now doesn't it?" he said confidently. "So, back to the plan."

Before Heyes could say anything further Kid suddenly realized that he hadn't heard any shots being fired for a while. He stood up and peered out of the window.

Heyes picked up on his cousin's unease. "What is it, Thaddeus?"

"Nothin' I hope but, as I already know the plan, I think I'll just go take a look."

Kid made his way into the yard, his keen eyes squinting in the sunlight as he scanned the trees for Luke. A horse whickered so he turned and walked towards the sound.

In the darkness of the barn he could just about make out his black gelding with a saddle blanket on its back. Then, as his eyes adjusted, he saw the Winchester propped against the stall.

"So, you're not just content with shootin' me, you're gonna steal my horse now?" he called.

"Just borrowin' it," came the reply.

"Borrowin' it? Why?"

Luke heaved the saddle onto the gelding's back. "Our horse is too slow. I need to get into town fast."

"You ain't goin' into town, Luke," Kid said emphatically as he walked over and picked up the rifle.

"I need that!" Luke turned and watched Curry cycle the lever repeatedly, thereby emptying the contents of the fully loaded magazine onto the floor. He didn't want to take any chances.

Kid pointed to a hay bale. "Come and sit down a minute."

"I don't have time. I told ya, I gotta get into town."

"Sit!" Kid fixed the boy with an icy stare which still had the desired effect, even in the dim light of the barn. He sat down alongside him. "Now, you gonna tell me what this is about?"

Luke's eyes flared. " I'm gonna go shoot Lester Small," he declared, "for killin' my Pa."

"Now where'd ya hear that?"

"I was comin' in to ask you about alterin' the sights' and I heard Joshua say Pa was murdered. I gotta go kill him." The boy was adamant, his angry eyes staring at the floor.

"Luke, killin' someone ain't as easy as it sounds...whatever the reason." Kid's thoughts drifted momentarily back to a day in Matherville when he stood over the figure of Danny Bilson as he lay dying in the street. He quickly buried the memory.

"You'll only end up in jail, or on the run, and believe me you wouldn't like either of them much. I don't know about these parts, but in some states they even hang kids for murder."

Luke stared wide-eyed at Kid before returning his gaze to the floor.

"Your ma needs you more than ever, Luke, now that your pa is gone. You won't be much good to her in jail, or danglin' at the end of a rope now will you?"

The boy shook his head. "Guess not."

"Joshua has a plan to get even with Small that don't involve shootin' anyone. Your ma can tell you all about it." Kid leant his elbows on his knees as he watched Luke slowly get to his feet and amble towards the door.

"Er, ain't you forgettin' somethin'?" he called.

Luke turned and Kid pointed towards the stall. "My horse needs unsaddling."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Heyes returned to Fairwood a week later leaving the others to finish packing up the homestead. If he succeeded in getting the gold they would have to move out quickly and Emeline had agreed that it was the best thing to do in case Small came after them.

His first stop was the post office. Last week he had sent a telegraph to their friend, Sheriff Lom Trevors in Porterville, making enquiries about a house for Emeline and Luke and to see if he could ask Doctor Freeman if he could use Emeline's medicine making skills at his surgery. He hoped a week was long enough for Lom to arrange everything.

The clerk in the post office answered his enquiry by handing him a small envelope. Heyes took out the small piece of yellow paper within and read the brief reply. He breathed a sigh of relief. One part of his plan was in place.

He tipped his hat to the clerk and walked down the street to the saloon to see if Lester Small was there. As Heyes had spent a good amount of money in the saloon the other day and the bartender had seen him drinking with Small, he seemed happy to answer his enquiry about the man. Heyes had hoped that Small would be out of town, maybe working his claim, but he was informed that Lester was probably at home.

Heyes led his horse to the outskirts of town and tethered it to the porch railing outside Lester's cottage. Reaching into his saddle bag he took out a small bottle and a package wrapped in brown paper both of which he secreted in the pocket of his old grey coat.

"Hey, Lester!" he grinned as the man opened the door in answer to his knock.

"Huh, where did you disappear to the other day?" complained the man.

"Oh, just had things to do. Can I come in?"

"I guess," said Lester guardedly.

Heyes quickly surveyed the room as he entered. He was relieved to see that the stove was lit today and a coffee pot sat on the heat. There was also a half full cup on the table.

"Is that coffee?" he asked, indicating the pot. "I could really do with some."

Lester frowned slightly but went over to the stove and poured Heyes a cup. "What d' ya want?" he asked.

Heyes sipped his coffee. "I've got a proposition for you. I've been looking around in the hills over the past few days and I was wondering if you would like some help working that claim of yours. Seeing as you lost your partner, an' all."

"Don't know as I wanna take on another partner."

"That's a real shame." Heyes took another swig of his coffee. "This is good coffee," he said. "Mind if I have some more?" He eagerly held out his cup.

Lester gave him a disgruntled look but took the cup and went to the stove. While his back was turned Heyes took the bottle out of his pocket, removed the cork and deftly poured about half the contents into Lester's coffee. "You gonna join me?" he asked as Lester returned to the table. Lester duly poured a little more into his own cup.

Heyes continued trying to persuade Small to take him on as a partner until, about fifteen minutes later, Lester's head was once more resting on the table and he was snoring loudly. Emeline's sleeping draught had done its work. Once Heyes had outlined his plan to Emeline she had been more than happy to make him up a draught that would send Lester to sleep. He needed at least half an hour, just in case the gold wasn't where he thought it was, and she had assured him that Small would be out for at least an hour.

Now for the dog.

He walked over to the bedroom door and pushed it open a fraction. The mongrel was once more asleep on the rug beside the bed.

Returning to the kitchen, Heyes took the brown paper package from his pocket and unwrapped two pieces of meat. Placing one on the table he poured a little of the sleeping draught onto it, rubbing it in with his fingers.

The dog raised its head and growled at him as he stepped into the bedroom and as Heyes held out the piece of meat without the draught on it he got up snarling. Then he stopped and sniffed the air. "Come on, nice dog," coaxed Heyes, putting the meat down and backing away. The dog licked its teeth and sniffed at the meat before picking it up and swallowing it whole. Heyes then put down the drugged piece and watched the dog gulp it down without hesitation. He just had to hope it worked on the dog as well as it had on its owner.

While he was waiting Heyes went back outside, moved his horse round to the back of the cottage where it would be out of sight, and retrieved his saddlebags. He re-entered the cottage, locking the door behind him and looked at his pocket watch. Emeline had said that the drug should work quickly on the dog.

Heyes peered around the bedroom door. The dog was asleep on the rug. He stealthily moved across the room and nudged the dog cautiously with the toe of his boot. The animal didn't move so he pulled the rug, with the dog still on it, away from the bed. He then put his weight against the dresser and pushed. The piece of furniture was heavy and made a loud scraping noise as it slid along the floor. Heyes stopped and glanced apprehensively at the dog. The animal was still sound asleep.

Examining the floor Heyes was pleased to see that the nails in the floorboards had already been removed so he lifted one and, exactly as he had anticipated, there was a hole underneath in which lay a cache of small burlap bags. A wide grin spread from one dimple to the other.

Heyes wasted no time in removing the bags and stashing them into his saddlebags. He then replaced the floorboard and pushed the dresser back. The rug, complete with sleeping dog, was the last to be moved back into place. Heyes grunted as he hoisted the saddlebags onto his shoulder. He knew gold was heavy but those bags weighed a lot more than he thought they would, and he hoped his old saddlebags would hold out until he got back to the Hanford's place.

Making his exit from the cottage without so much as a backward glance at Lester Small he loaded the gold onto the back of his mare, prompting a low whicker from her as the sudden weight hit her rump. He stoked her nose in apology before mounting up and trotting nonchalantly back down the main street.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Kid Curry placed a box onto the back of the buckboard as his cousin rode in.

"Any trouble?" he queried.

"Nope," Heyes replied, with a satisfied smile as he jumped down from the saddle and hitched his mare to the rail. "It all went like clockwork."

"How much of the gold did you take?"

"All of it."

"What? I thought you were figurin' on leaving him some?"

"I gave that some more thought, Kid, and I couldn't come up with a good enough reason why I should. Anyway, he can go pan for some more when he feels like it, Emeline can't." A cheeky smile spread across Heyes' face. "Let's just call it a life insurance payment for her husband."

Kid was quick to notice that Heyes' eyes were shining like they did when he'd cracked a safe and he just knew he had relished the whole process from drugging Lester's coffee to beating a trail out of town without a posse on his tail. Now all they had to do was put some distance between them and Fairwood before Small discovered his gold was missing and raise the alarm.

"Sounds like Lom should have everything set up by the time we reach Porterville." Heyes pulled the telegraph out of his pocket and handed it to Kid to read. He heaved his saddlebags from the back of his horse and looked at the buckboard with some concern. "I hope this will hold together," he remarked, inspecting it cautiously. "I think we'd better split this dust between our two horses. It might just be too much for this old wagon!"

"We're almost finished," said Kid, making his way back into the house. "We need to get a good distance away before sun down and we won't be travellin' very fast with this old wagon and that old horse."

Heyes followed him with the gold-laden saddlebags and placed it on the kitchen table. Through the side window he spied Emeline heading towards the trees. Assuming she was going to dig up her small cache of dust he stepped outside again. His long strides covered the ground easily and he caught up with her at the edge of the wood.

She didn't acknowledge him but stood very still, looking at the grass at her feet and Heyes' eyes were drawn to something he hadn't noticed before - a small cross set into the ground. He removed his hat respectfully for a moment, then went to turn away.

"Don't go, Joshua." Emeline held out her hand behind her and Heyes took it in his. It felt cold despite the warmth of the day.

"I'm sorry you have to leave him here," Heyes said, looking down at the grave.

Emeline sighed. "Luke's all I have now. Mama and my sister are gone and Pa will be in prison for the rest of his life, probably. Time for me and Luke to make a fresh start."

Heyes smiled reassuringly. "Porterville is a real fine town. You'll like it there." He squeezed her hand before letting it go. "Take your time," he added and walked back towards the house.

It wasn't long before everything was loaded and they set out, first on the road heading west as a precaution in order to avoid Fairwood, and then north towards Porterville. Kid drove the wagon with Emeline sitting beside him while Luke rode alongside on Kid's black gelding. Heyes and his skittish mare were banished to the rear.

The journey took them six days overall, a little more than they had anticipated. Luke had thoroughly enjoyed life on the trail, sleeping out under the stars and cooking on a campfire. He was also very proud of the fact that he had managed to bag a rabbit with his rifle early one morning, even more so as it was the one that Kid had missed with his shot, or so he had said.

The wagon had needed some minor repairs a couple of times and the old horse had struggled up some of the hills but eventually they had pulled up next to the small green in the centre of Porterville. Lom Trevors strode out of the Sheriff's office to greet them.

"Howdy, Lom," grinned Heyes shaking the tall, dark, moustachioed man by the hand.

"Lom," acknowledged Curry with a tip of his hat from the wagon seat before he slowly lowered himself down to the ground.

The Sheriff noticed that Kid wasn't putting much weight on his left leg. "What happened to you?" he enquired, frowning.

"Rifle bullet." He caught Lom's knowing look. "Not what you're thinkin'. An accident...this time," he added as he helped Emeline down from the wagon.

"Lom, this is Emeline Hanford and her son, Luke." Lom raised his hat politely and, as he did so, Heyes' sharp eyes noticed what he thought was a faint blush on the lawman's cheek. He grinned to himself and raised his eyebrows towards Kid. Ex-outlaw turned sheriff and convicted outlaw's daughter, now that could make for an interesting couple, he mused.

Lom wasted no time in showing Emeline the cottage he had found for her to rent temporarily and he enlisted a couple of deputies to help with the unloading of the wagon. The cottage was not far from Doc Freeman's house which also doubled as his surgery and where Emeline hoped to be working.

Eventually Heyes and Curry took their leave, promising to return for supper later that evening. On the way to the hotel they stopped by the bank where they deposited Emeline's gold dust for her. The bank had a brand new Brooker 404 safe, which they were all too familiar with, so they knew that it would be secure there.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Having reluctantly said their goodbyes at supper the night before, the two ex-outlaws were up at daybreak, packed and ready to be moving on, content in the knowledge that Emeline and Luke would be well looked after in Porterville.

"I'll go saddle up," said Kid as they closed their hotel room door.

Heyes handed his bedroll and saddlebags to his cousin which Kid almost dropped.

"Sheesh! Whatcha got in there? It ain't usually that heavy." He considered this for a fraction of a second. "Aaaww Heyes, you didn't!"

As they proceeded down the stairs Heyes looked at Kid with the most innocent expression he could muster but he knew his cousin wouldn't buy it and the corners of his mouth started to twitch before eventually breaking into a wide grin.

With a shake of his head Curry hoisted the heavy saddlebags onto his shoulder and continued on his way to the livery stables leaving Heyes to pay the hotel bill. He had almost finished saddling one horse when Heyes arrived and, as he wasn't prepared to give up on their new-found principles just yet, Kid picked up the conversation again.

"I can't believe you took some of that gold, Heyes. What about our amnesty?" he muttered.

"Oh, I didn't _take_ it."

Kid sighed. "I thought you turned Emeline down when she offered to pay you for stealin' it."

"Well, we can't rob someone and get paid for it, Kid, now that _would_ be illegal."

"We stole that bust for Big Mac McCreedy and he paid us for doing it," Kid pointed out.

"No, no, we were recovering stolen property. That's a legal enterprise," Heyes affirmed.

"But?" Curry looked up from the bridle strap he was securing. "Wasn't this stolen property too? Kinda."

Heyes led his horse out of the livery. "Well there, y' are!" he exclaimed.

Kid opened his mouth to speak then screwed up his face trying to fathom his cousin's larcenous excuses.

"It's just a couple of small bags, Kid. Think of it as... compensation."

"For _what_?!"

"Loss of earnings?"

"But we didn't _have_ jobs at the time, Heyes."

"Yeah, but...we couldha."

Kid shook his head. "Pfffttt!"

They mounted up and headed south. Kid groaned inwardly as it occurred to him that this conversation could go round in never ending circles...just like the one about the Hanford job.


End file.
